and a Happy New Year
by jo taylor
Summary: Immediate follow up to Merry Xmas, and Marcus is on the hunt Down Below
1. Default Chapter Title

Title : ...and a Happy New Year

Author: Jo Taylor

Part 5 of 7

Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of

Rating: General 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!

Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g

Feedback most welcome

… and a Happy New Year pt 5

After two days of intensive searching, Garibaldi and his team returned defeated. Not only had Shaker managed to slip through their fingers; but also no trace had been found of Marcus - dead or alive. The bloody trail had petered out half way down a dingy corridor. Scuff marks made by many feet erased the faint drops as the trail entered a well-travelled part of the sector. The search teams had entered every nook and cranny they could find, turning up a welter of illegal activities. Enough to keep them in paperwork for some months to come; but of Marcus they learned nothing. 

The three weary persons gathered in Garibaldi's security office sat in dejected silence. There was nowhere else to look. Only two options offered themselves, and neither one was pleasant. Firstly, Marcus may have been spirited off of the station somehow. Although unlikely in the extreme it was a better thought than the one currently occupying everyone at that moment. Had Marcus' body been disposed of, leaving no trace? Bodies had disappeared before, later to be found in small pieces tucked away in the darker areas of the station. 

Unfortunately the second option seemed the more likely, and as Susan made her way slowly back to her cabin she felt the churning sense of hopelessness enfold her. Marcus, although he annoyed the hell out of her, had become a significant part of her life. His cheery demeanour, though sometimes out of place, could always be relied upon. And his quirky way of looking at the world was sometimes all that could pull her out of the gloom that was wont to enter her soul.

***

Naomi's voice called him back from the depths of his dreamless state. And he was glad of it; the nothingness that had held him captive was more frightening than any nightmare.

"Marcus?" Small fingers got a grip on his hand, tugging with surprising strength on his left arm. Pain shot through him and he yelped at the suddenness of it.

Maggie entered swiftly, tutting at the little girl and ordering her, in the calmest way, not to annoy her patient. As she leaned over him, the faint wash of lavender wafted toward him. The same perfume his grandmother wore. One white hand felt his brow, and she smiled, then pinched his cheek as she looked gently down at him. Treating him more like a child than the rigorously trained Ranger that he was. He felt his own answering grin and the bubble of laughter welling within him, and enjoyed the moment.

"Now, you want to know where you are, I am sure. And who I am, how Naomi reached me and all sorts of other things, am I right?" Her calm acceptance seemed no more out of place than anything else did in this strange sanctuary.

"First, my name is Margaret; Maggie to my friends. This is my home, and has been for the last six years. My boys found you, bleeding heavily, in a rather nasty part of the station. They brought you here to me. From your clothing I would say you are a Ranger? At least, I have never encountered anyone else who could own a Minbari fighting pike."

For a moment he panicked. He remembered the fight, and he knew that he had felled one assailant, but he had no recollection of retracting or, for that matter, retrieving his weapon. All this must have shown on his face. Maggie laid a hand on his arm, and shook it gently. "Don't worry, I have it safe, and it will be returned to you when you leave. You have no need for it here."

"You don't understand. The..." his voice stumbled as he held back the expletive he had so nearly uttered. "The people who attacked my friend and I must have realised that I was helped by someone. They have excellent sources in down below. If it is possible, they will come after me. I must leave soon. All the time I am here I am putting you in great danger."

"Don't worry yourself about it, my dear boy. Now, Naomi," she called the youngster to her side, wrapping her in a warm hug. "Naomi here, found herself alone and in need of my help. She ran away from the people looking after her, she won't tell me why." Worry echoed softly in her calm voice.

"Maybe I know the answer to that." Marcus' voice was gentle as his fingers reached out to the young girl, softly caressing her cheek. He dropped his hand quickly as pain lanced through his shoulder and down his back. He tried to move and a second stab shot into his lower back.

"Do be careful, dear. It took a bit of work to sew you back together, I'd rather you didn't undo all my handiwork." Maggie got up and fetched something from the shelf by the door. "You might want this as a souvenir." 

In her hand lay a six-inch knife; its thin blade gleamed in the overhead lighting. Razor sharp edges glistened wickedly as she turned it over. "You probably didn't even feel it enter," she mused. He nodded agreement. He had felt a blow to his back but the premise that he might have been stabbed had not occurred to him. In the general melee he had assumed that he had backed into a crate or that his assailant had made a lucky hit.

"It missed your kidney by millimetres. You, my young man, are a very lucky person even if you have been in the wars lately."

The old fashioned expression again reminded him of his grandmother and kinder times. "Maggie, I do have to leave, as soon as possible. And I'll take Naomi with me, her parents need to know she is still alive."

Naomi, hearing her name, had looked up, but at mention of her parents she let out a small exclamation of fear.

"Not going back. Not! Maggie, don't let them take me." The child buried her face in the old woman's lap, and sobbed until she could cry no more. 

Maggie and Marcus exchanged looks. "I'll tell you what I think happened." Marcus said softly. "Perhaps when this little one is asleep. It is not the sort of tale a child should hear, even if she were a part of that story." Maggie nodded as she held the weeping Naomi closer, soothing her with soft words and gentle hands.

"Sleep, Marcus. I'll wake you later with some food, and we can talk." Her words acted like a Pavlovian bell on his senses, and soon his eyes closed, his breathing evened out as sleep, almost against his will, took him.

Amazingly, when next he awoke, the dull pain that had previously suffused him was gone. Sometime during his sleep someone, and he presumed it to be Maggie, had changed his dressings. The sweet smell of antibiotics permeated the air, and his fingers, when they had finished a gentle inspection of his wounds, came away smelling of the same mixture. Whatever she had used it far outdid the painkillers Stephen had pumped him full of.

With time on his hands until his benefactress should return Marcus began to give serious consideration to all that had occurred. Until now, the woman's mere presence seemed to hold back his naturally suspicious nature. There was so much he did not understand. How had he reached this place for a start? She had mentioned her 'boys', but they could hardly be children who had found and removed him. And what had she meant by saying the lost and needy found their way to her?

Almost on command, Maggie entered the room, flanking her were two of the most stalwart men he had ever seen. Each stood well over six feet and was muscled well above the average build. Seams bulged along their tight fitting jackets, material stretched over powerful thighs.

"Marcus, how lovely to see you awake. I'd like you to meet my boys; this is John," she indicated the huge man on her left who gave a courteous nod of the head. "And this is Mark." The dark-haired man on her right also nodded, and added a small smile of welcome.

"These are the ones who found me?" 

Maggie nodded, and looked with pride at the two hulking figures who dwarfed her tiny body.

"I'd like to offer my thanks to you both. Anything I can ever do for you, don't hesitate to ask." He held out a hand to them and stared as they exchanged glances then chuckled with silent mirth. They did approach and each took his hand gingerly in their own. Leaving quickly with Maggie's reproaches in their ears.

"I'm sorry about that, Marcus. Your offer was kindly made."

"Well you never know. I might be able to repay you all at some time." He had the feeling that this woman needed nothing to add to her life, that she was the one who normally provided for others.

"Now," she said, settling beside him, "tell me about Naomi."

"When he had finished relating all that he knew, and much that he supposed, Maggie looked away from him, contemplating all that she had heard.

"Something must be done Marcus. This man must be stopped. To steal children from loving homes..." Her distress moved him, and he laid his hand on hers.

"I have every intention of stopping him. I feel great and I think I should be up and gone. He has to be somewhere on the station. I'll find him, and then we will have a little chat about his activities." His tone trailed off into a menacing whisper, quickly suppressed.

"They are already searching the station. I had presumed for you." Maggie mused out loud. "Perhaps they are looking for Mr Shaker also."

She shook her head decidedly. "You, will remain here. I won't have you undoing all my good work by needlessly running around." She held up a peremptory hand. "Don't argue. My boys will find Shaker, and we can talk to him together. Perhaps you could talk to Naomi for me," she changed the subject quickly, sensing his antipathy to her suggestion.

The little girl came when called and took Maggie's seat beside the ranger. Her cheery smile did much to lift his spirits, but he was determined to leave as soon as he had the chance. 

"Will you look after Marcus for me, Naomi? I have a few things to do. I know you will take good care of him for me." With a smile she left the two to talk.

"It's nice to finally talk to you, Naomi. I heard you call," he tapped his forehead lightly, "a few days ago."

The blonde head ducked from his gaze, and she bit her lip; little fingers fiddled with the sheet draped over him, plucking at the soft material.

"Naomi?"

She looked up at him again with eyes that were way too old for her young face. "I'm not supposed to do that. You won't tell anyone will you?"

"Of course not," he lied with aplomb. Or did that constitute a lie? After all he had already told her secret.

"They are not my mummy and daddy. At least I don't think they are." Her voice wavered uncertainly, and she was all child again. "I think I remember being with other people, nice people. And I remember you. You were nice to me when no one else would talk to us. You didn't mind that I was different."

His expression softened as he took her hand in his own. She grinned up at him. "Your eyes smile." Again that oddly adult slant on life that sat so incongruously on her little face.

"Can you tell me where you have been? Your parents, your real mother and father, have been looking for you for a long time. And other little girls and boys have been lost too. Did you see anyone else, Naomi?"

Tears trembled unshed on her long lashes as she shook her head. "Mustn't tell. They said I would be punished if I told. Like talking to you up here," she indicated her forehead. "It hurts when they don't like what I have done."

"No-one will hurt you now, sweetheart. I promise. Come here."

Naomi clambered up onto the bed with him, and was immediately enfolded in his arms. She snuggled next to him, tiny hands tangled in the bedclothes as she burst into tears. Suddenly Marcus was awash with her feelings, her fears and terrors. He held her tighter, soothing her as best he could as she spoke, words tumbling from her as though a dam had burst. Her past flickered in a disorientating display through his mind. She leapt from one incident to another with a randomness that was dizzying. Her recollections hardened his heart even further. The child had been subjected not to physical cruelty beyond the odd slap, but she had been secluded, isolated for hours at a time. Hidden away from the world when her latent telepathy had been discovered. He could imagine how the new adoptive parents had reacted to having bought a millstone like Naomi - for PsiCorp would track down any telepath wherever they were found. 

When she finally stopped speaking, she lay exhausted in his arms. Maggie returned to find her sound asleep, cradled against Marcus whose eyes blazed with a fury that only grew because he could not immediately spring into action.

"Did she tell you anything," Maggie whispered.

He nodded, tight-lipped. "Did you find Shaker?"

"My boys have him tucked away. We can talk to him later. Marcus, there are security personnel scouring the station for you. I think you had best return to your friends tomorrow. Do you want me to let them know you are well?"

It seemed she understood his personality with bare hours acquaintance, for he did not want anyone's interference in the vengeance he was about to exact. Stephen and the others could fret one day longer. His thoughts turned to Susan, but he turned his mind away. Susan had never indicated she felt more than tolerance for him, it was doubtful she was too worried about his disappearance. He sighed and shook his head. "I think not, Maggie," he said softly. "There are things I need to do before I return."

"The celebrations tomorrow might be a fitting time to go back."

"Celebrations?"

"The humans are still holidaying. Tomorrow is the start of a New Year. I hope it is a better one for us all." The old lady's voice seemed troubled as she added, "yes, I do hope what I fear will not come to pass."

"Can you put Naomi to bed? I would like to get dressed, that is, if you'll let me up now?" His grin pleaded for her sympathy at his plight. 

Her calm gaze considered him reflectively. "I'll take Naomi then check you over. If, and only if, I am satisfied you are able to manage then I'll return your clothes and your weapon. Do we understand each other." For she had seen the mutinous set of his mouth. He nodded reluctantly.

She was true to her word. The sleeping child made no protest as Maggie removed her to her own bed and she was soon back. Marcus sat straight as he could, bare legs dangling over the side of the bed as Maggie checked his wounds. Wincing at the removal of med patches, he barely flinched as her fingers searched around the stitches in his back. His mind was lost in meditation, removing the sense of pain that she elicited. It would not last long, but long enough to make it through her examination - he hoped.

"Your self control is excellent, Marcus." She helped him to his feet and watched him as he tried to reorientate himself. "Your teachers would be proud of you."

"Do I pass?" The fact that she saw right through him was no surprise, this woman was too perceptive, and a force to be reckoned with he realised.

"You'll do. You heal fast, which is lucky for you. I would advise against anything too strenuous for a week or two. You are not indestructible, remember that please."

He had the oddest urge to snap a salute and refrained himself with difficulty. "My clothes?"

Dressing was harder than he had expected. Even with Maggie's help it took three times longer than usual. The vague embarrassment at being dressed by her faded rapidly, and he was more than grateful for her supporting arm by the end of it. His fingers wrapped themselves around his pike with care. He examined it for damage, warned her to stand back as he extended then retracted its length. Satisfied that it had sustained no damage he fixed it back to his belt with a sigh.

"It means a lot to you? The weapon?"

He considered his answer, he had never really thought about the place it held in his life. "No," he began thoughtfully. "No, not the denn'Bok itself, though it is an ancient weapon that has been handed down from Ranger to Ranger. It is more what it represents, of what I represent as the holder of the pike. It is hard to put into words how I feel about my calling."

"You don't need to, my dear boy. It shines in your eyes whenever you speak of it. Come, let us go and talk to Mr Shaker."

***

... 


	2. Default Chapter Title

Title : ...and a Happy New Year

Author: Jo Taylor

Part 2 of 7

Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of

Rating: General 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!

Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g

Feedback most welcome.

…and a Happy New Year pt 2 

Marcus had spent the rest of the night trying to sleep, but between the pain in his side and the intrusion of the waif-like face, along with a vague sense of familiarity, he woke feeling less than refreshed. His head buzzed uncomfortably and his mouth tasted awful. 'Valen,' he thought to himself, 'I haven't even got the excuse of a hangover.'

He opened his eyes slowly, and winced at the sudden intrusion of light on his photosensitive retinas. He was met with the presence of Stephen and Susan standing by his bedside. Closing his eyes again he counted up to ten out loud in Minbari; the visions were still there when he opened them again.

"I can't afford a home visit, Stephen. Go away, there's a good chap; let me die in peace."

"You are not going to die, Marcus," the patient voice pronounced with authority. Marcus was still in his medical blues and Stephen rolled up the sleeve to administer a painkilling injection.

Susan had taken up a post against the far wall, watching Marcus with an intensity that was becoming quite intrusive. With an effort, Marcus pushed himself up from the bed and straightened up, wincing at the stab of pain that shot through him. Two sets of hands reached to steady his swaying body. He stood, perfectly still, until their unwanted help was removed. On occasion he could assume the most distant mien, and although it sat ill with his undressed state, it had the desired effect. 

Although he heard Susan's breathed curse he ignored them both, heading for the sonic shower. "If you two don't mind, I need to freshen up a bit, put some clothes on. Was this just a social call? If not you'll have to excuse me for a moment or two." 

Stephen's "I'll come with you," raised his eyebrow in disbelief. 

"Much as I love you Stephen, this is one thing I can manage for myself!"

"Don't be an idiot, I want to check your wounds and replace the dressings. Unless you would rather we did it here, in front of the Commander?"

He felt the colour seep into his cheeks and turned quickly away from Susan's tight grin and bright eyes. Under other circumstances he would be delighted to strip for her, but not now, and not like this. 

The two men disappeared into the small bathroom and Susan got only the briefest glimpse of Marcus' half-naked body. The pale skin glistened in the overhead lighting, and scars old and new were highlighted in its uncompromising glare. Not for the first time Susan wondered at the life he led. He had always been closed mouthed about where he was sent and what he had to do. The scars indicated more danger than she would have thought the brief of 'watch and report' might involve.

Stephen returned as the shower started up and they spoke quietly together, even though it was unlikely Marcus could hear them over the sonic noise.

"How much do we tell him? I know he's as trustworthy as they come, but this is not our secret to tell." Susan bit her lip in frustration at Stephen's question. 

"It's not really my place to make this decision. You were the one running the whole show, you knew the Siskins better than anyone else." She paused to let him gather his thoughts. "Would they trust a Ranger with this?"

Stephen's eyes turned to the closed bathroom door, where the sound of the shower had ceased, his gaze considered. "He may be their only hope." With his eyes back on Susan, he did not hear the door behind him open as he said, "I think we have to tell him some of the truth at least. I think we can trust him."

"That's nice to know," commented the soft voice behind them. Dressed in his Ranger uniform of browns and black, his hair still damp, he looked almost his usual self. Only the paleness of his features and his unusually quiet attitude attested to his recent illness and his current low state.

The two jumped guiltily and turned as one to face him. Susan was first to recover, and gestured for him to sit. He did so, and the others joined him; Franklin beside him on the bed and Ivanova taking the chair.

"So, what is it you can trust me with?" 

Franklin began. "About a year ago, maybe longer, we had a few visitors going through the station. People that the rest of the staff here knew nothing about. I helped them get past the system, arranged transport and papers."

Marcus nodded, and edged in before Stephen could continue. "You are talking about the telepaths, those on the run from PsiCorp." It was not a question but a quiet statement. 

Franklin's eyes widened then narrowed suspiciously. "How did you know about that?"

The grin that split Marcus' face radiated humour. "Come now, Stephen, I'm a Ranger remember. There is very little we don't know about what is going on." His eyes crinkled in laughter abruptly curtailed as a spasm of pain radiated through him. "Bugger, that hurt," he cursed.

Susan had flinched unconsciously in sympathy as Marcus pressed a hand to the wound.

"Sorry, shouldn't swear with ladies present," he grinned at her.

"For god's sake, Marcus, how do you know?" Susan leaned forward interrogatively.

His smile vanished as dark thoughts took hold. "The Rangers had known about the rogue telepaths for some time. They had been filtering through various systems, coming under attack from PsiCorp and others for months. One group in particular, on Varin Prime, was almost wiped out. This particular clique was helpful to us; saved one of our operatives from a rather sticky end. " He hesitated for a moment. "I take it what is said here goes no further?" They both nodded. 

"Delenn would have my entrails strung on the altar for this if she ever found out. Not that I am opposed to sacrificial slaughter you understand, it has its place don't you think?"

"Marcus," Susan growled.

"Sorry. Where was I? Oh yes, well a group of us decided to help out when we could. We provided a little transport of our own. Did you never wonder how some of the telepaths arrived on Babylon 5?"

"You?" Stephen uttered. "But you weren't assigned to the station at the time."

"Well you may not have seen me, but I was around. The Rangers were on the station quite frequently actually. Great place for finding out all sorts of things."

"Never mind that. Did you have any dealings with the Siskin family? Jake and Sara were the parents and little Naomi was the daughter. From your description of the girl in your dreams, it could be the child. She went missing a year ago today." Ivanova's gaze was intense, compelling.

Marcus let his mind wander back to those days of the illegal railroad he and some of his friends had been involved in. There had been so many desperate faces at that time, but hardly any families. And then it came to him, that very last run on Christmas Eve last year. Stephen had shut the route by that time, Bester had got wind of the operation and things had come to a head, but Marcus had passed the family on to his contact who in turn had contacted Franklin. He had not followed up on them; he never had on any of the refugees he had helped. His plate was already full with scouting the rim, he could not give his time and energy to those he thought safe. 

The little girl and her parents had spent most of their short time on his ship closeted in the cabin; he had seen them briefly boarding and departing, that was all. He had a vague recollection of the child tugging at his cloak and his flicking her face with one finger as she grinned up at him; she had been such a happy little girl then.

His face must have given away his thoughts. Stephen, his face grave, took up the narrative.

"She went missing the day after Christmas. We turned this place upside down as best we could without revealing who or what we were looking for. The few telepaths that were still on board, did their best to track her down but she was too young, her latent powers too weak for them to trace. In the end we had to drop the search, we came to the conclusion that she had either been taken off the station or..."

"Well now we know she isn't, don't we. So," Marcus declared purposefully, "we start to look again."

"But where? Marcus we looked everywhere we could think of, and we didn't find a trace of her. Where will you go? Did you see anything in your dreams that hinted at her location?" Susan's intense gaze bored into him.

"I didn't see anything except her face, but... there was a familiar feel to it. I can't explain it to you, the area was totally black, and yet I knew it."

"Was it even on the station?" 

"Oh yes," he replied to her, "somewhere Down Below. That much I do know."

"Then we had best make a move. I am off shift until 2100 tonight; that gives us nearly eight hours. We can at least make a start." 

Marcus met Susan's burst of energy with dismay.

"You can't come with me Susan. Everyone down there would spot the uniform and be off in a trice. I work better alone, they know me down there, trust me. I'll find her." Seeing her doubt he added, "I promise."

Franklin stepped in to back Susan's claim. "I think you should take Susan, Marcus. If... when you do find her, she might feel more comfortable with a woman."

Marcus considered them both for a moment, turning over in his mind all the worst case scenarios. In his present state, if things went very wrong, he would be less than effective. Susan on the other hand could handle herself well in a fight. He might need her backup. Besides, it gave him a chance to spend time with her.

"You need to get changed, something that won't stand out down there. And you had better be armed; you never know what we might be getting into. I'll meet you outside your quarters in half an hour."

Susan nodded and headed to the door, turning she directed an order at Stephen. "Make sure he eats, he has had nothing except a cup of tea for the last few days." Before either man could comment on her sudden concern for the Ranger's welfare, she was gone.

"Well, breakfast had better be my treat. Let's go."

"One moment, Stephen." Marcus rummaged in the bottom cupboard of his kitchen, bringing out a small bag of tightly wrapped items. He tucked them securely in his pocket, picked up his pike and tested it, then fixed it to his belt under the lightweight cloak. "Ready."

... 


	3. Default Chapter Title

Title : ...and a Happy New Year

Author: Jo Taylor

Part 3 of 7

Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of

Rating: General 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!

Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g

Feedback most welcome

…and a Happy New Year pt 3

Franklin kept a watchful eye on his wayward charge, forcing Marcus to consume rather more than he wanted, and steering him toward more nourishing fare than he would normally eat. Marcus took it all in good part, mostly, until Stephen tried to make him drink a second glass of milk substitute - at that he cavilled, eyes suddenly stormy.

As they walked toward Susan's quarters Franklin tried once again to be included in the party. "Look, you two should not go alone. What if the child needs medical attention, and what about you? I know how badly you are hurt, and I know it's only sheer willpower that is keeping you upright. You need my help."

Marcus, who had been trying to keep a step ahead of the doctor suddenly whirled to face him, exasperation barely concealed in his stance. "I can't take half the command staff Down Below with me, you are all too well known. Not to the down and outs, but the criminal element most certainly know who you are. And besides, you want to keep this mission quiet, am I right? I am compromising the mission as is it, taking Ivanova with me. If we get into trouble, well, you know where we went. I'll check in with you in a couple of hours, but don't panic if you don't hear, things can change at a moments notice." Seeing Franklin was not convinced he added, "Susan is more than a match for any trouble we find, don't you agree?" His accompanying grin reflected on his friend's face as he nodded his agreement.

The door to Commander Ivanova's rooms flew open almost before they touched the panel, she stood back to let them in, and Marcus surveyed her with professional care. Her muted clothing was nondescript, not too new yet not too old either, her hair hung loose around her face and she had removed the small amount of makeup that she normally wore. It made her look younger, he decided. Only the tough set of her mouth and the knowledge behind her eyes gave the lie to her outward fragile exterior. She would do.

With many exhortations to take care they took a brisk walk to the transport. For all his bravado, Marcus knew that the painkiller currently circulating his system would not last forever; in fact it was highly unlikely to go much beyond another hour or two. Pain was something he had lived with before, but it slowed his reactions and dulled his senses in a way that could prove very dangerous on this mission.

Although Marcus had felt a familiarity with the child's location, much of Down Below had assumed a uniformity in its ragged appearance. Accordingly they started at the far end of the station, and for the next hour the two hunters made their way slowly from section to section, relying on Marcus' instincts and familiarity with the denizens. There were certain sectors that they could easily pass by; those peppered with the worst kind of bars and brothels. That was not the impression he had gained from his dreams. As they walked they discussed all that he had envisioned. 

"If she is the child of a telepathic couple could this be why she managed to reach me, even if it was when my natural barriers were completely down?"

His assumption of her knowledge gave Susan pause to wonder at just how extensive his information might be. She shrugged noncommittally, "I wouldn't know, it seems highly unlikely or else the telepaths who were here at the time would have picked up on her." A passing thought that maybe they were on a wild goose chase crossed her mind, but as she watched Marcus' intent face, she knew that he would not be here unless positive of his memories. 

The section they were about to traverse had a bad reputation and they walked with purposeful strides down each short corridor, wending their way between stacks of abandoned packaging. Suddenly Marcus froze in his stride, Susan, stepping past him, was unceremoniously grabbed around the waist and dragged back into the meagre cover two precarious stacks provided. Marcus clamped a hand over her opening mouth and breathed, "Company," into her ear. And although he removed his hand from her mouth, his other arm remained firmly clamped around her, pulling her closer to him and further into the shadows.

They waited in expectant silence, slowing their breath until they merged into the darkness. Seconds later the rapid sound of footsteps could be heard, not trying to conceal their approach. Low voices mingled in soft consultation and then the men were level with the hiding place where Marcus and Ivanova had secreted themselves. Their presence went unnoticed; deep in conversation, the two humans passed quickly and soon the sound of their footfalls could not be heard.

"What the hell is Shaker doing back on Babylon 5?" Marcus mused softly, eyes turned toward the retreating ruffians. His concentration was suddenly broken as Ivanova grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her waist, where it still held her firmly. His eyes were amused as they met her stormy gaze. "Sorry, a bit wrapped up there."

"So, who are they, why did we have to skulk in the shadows like a couple of second rate spies," she paused to take a breath, "and next time you grab me like that, Cole, be prepared for some major rearrangements to you features!"

His eyes twinkled at her irrepressibly before he sobered. "Shaker is bad news, very bad news. I thought Garibaldi had him banned from the station over six months ago. I think..." And here his words trailed off as his mind obviously engaged in uncomfortable thoughts.

"Who is he? The name doesn't ring a bell; why did Security ban him and, more to the point, why wasn't I told?" Her displeasure was only to be expected. As second in command of the station it had become her mission to be aware of everything that went on. Omniscience created a healthy respect within the lower ranks, and her inside knowledge had created quite a legend about her.

"I first came across this piece of filth about two years back, before I was officially assigned to Babylon 5. At that time he was working as a 'legitimate' trader, or at least that was his cover. He traded all right, in anything anyone wanted moved. Shaker and his team didn't care what the cargo was, drugs, stolen goods, refugees fleeing their homes - all at a price you understand."

Susan nodded, she knew the type, had threatened to space one or two individuals early on in her career. Now she was happy to let Garibaldi throw them off the station. "We should let Michael know he's back. As soon as we get back to civilisation I'll report in."

Marcus gave her a hard look as they walked toward the next section. "Not everyone down here deserves your contempt, Susan. A lot of the poor sods down here came because they thought this place was the answer to all their problems. Then they arrive with not enough money to live on, no way to get a job and not a snowball's chance of ever affording the fare home again. They eke out an existence best they can." He shut his lips against further words as they entered an area that had been adapted to savage living quarters. Threadbare blankets hung over old boxes, providing a modicum of privacy; children played in quiet groups, their clothes barely covering thin arms and legs.

Marcus indicated for Susan to wait for him, and he entered the shantytown. She watched as he moved from one group to the next, smiling at everyone, eliciting a smile in return from some that obviously recognised the Ranger from previous visits. Now and again his hand dipped into a bag tucked securely into his belt and he would pass over a small packet which would be eagerly received. The children followed him as he moved from home to home, and every now and then, as a small hand would slip into his, he would stop to talk to the infant, caress a cheek or dispense a tit bit from his bag. It was a side of the Ranger she had never seen, one that she was sure he kept hidden from the rest of the station. He had been trained to kill, and she had seen him in action - he was impressive, but there was this deep well of kindness within him. She felt the stirring of some long hidden emotion and quickly turned her thoughts to less complicated matters.

Susan, never comfortable with children, had become the focus of unwanted attention the minute they realised that she was with Marcus. He, seeing her obvious discomfort, returned to her side, routing the children with kind words and a promise to return when he could. 

"There has been a lot going on that I was not aware of. I have been too involved with other things." Marcus voice was tinged with a barely concealed bitterness Susan had thought foreign to his nature.

"Well don't keep it to yourself, spill it."

"It seems the Siskin child was neither the first, nor the last child to go missing. For the last year and a half, children have been going missing at the rate of maybe one to two a month. When the first one, a little boy of three, disappeared the parents reported him missing to Security. Two months later the case was still unsolved, the station was in the middle of yet another crisis and the case was sidelined. By that time another child, this time a girl of five had vanished. Her family and friends instituted their own search of the station as by that time no-one thought any help would be provided for them. Their status being what it was."

"But Garibaldi would not have let it slide, no matter what else was going on. You know him, Marcus, he hates to be bested over anything."

"I know that, and you know it, but to the people who exist down here he represents everything they can't have, and someone who tries to take away what little they do have. I understand them perfectly."

"Then we need to check the files as soon as possible, see what he came up with..."

"Oh, I can answer that, nothing! Not one child has been recovered, dead or alive. But I think I now know what Shaker might be doing on the station - don't you?"

"Kidnapping children? Marcus, that is far fetched even for you!"

"You think so? But there a lot of desperate people out there, those who can't have children of their own and are not suitable candidates for adoptive parents. You must know how strict the rules became after that fiasco five years ago."

She nodded, "Yes, how many was it, ten, twelve?"

"Fifteen," he replied soberly. "Fifteen children who, instead of having the home of their dreams, ended up in the hands of a paedophile ring."

"You think these kids...?"

"I pray to Valen that they are not."

... 


	4. Default Chapter Title

Title : ...and a Happy New Year

Author: Jo Taylor

Part 4 of 7

Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of

Rating: General 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!

Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g

Feedback very welcome

… and a Happy New Year pt 4

As they delved deeper into the rabbit warren of corridors, Marcus grew more and more sure that they were heading in the right direction. Though nothing made this area stand out from any other, the nagging sense of familiarity was back, stronger than before.

One last turn and he was sure that this was the place, the spot where he had sensed her presence. No child was visible, no sound reached his ears and his senses registered no other individuals. Frustration curled around him, and he began a thorough search of the area, knowing that he would not find her. 

Intent on their task, neither Marcus nor Ivanova heard the stealthy footsteps that would have announced the trouble heading their way. Bending over a large crate, Susan's first intimation of trouble was the whack of a pistol butt to her exposed back. Luckily she was moving at the time and the blow landed low, painfully cracking a rib. Her fury warned Marcus and he turned swiftly, blocking the savage blow aimed at him. The men were large, heavy brutes. Low-life scum used by others as 'clean-up' operatives, they were good at their job and Marcus was less than his usual efficient self. Wrestling with grim determination, the two combatants fell from one stack of cases to another, sending debris flying in all directions. Every impact jolted through him like a blast from a stun stick. The fist aimed at his jaw missed him by a fraction as Marcus ducked, aiming a blow of his own to the exposed midriff. He felt it land with a solid thud, knocking the wind temporarily out of his assailant, who staggered back two steps, finally giving Marcus room to manoeuvre. Making a practised move of his right hand, he grabbed his pike and extended it in one fluid move in time to swing a hefty blow to the other man's head. The crack of metal on bone echoed around the area with a satisfying sound. Turning his attention to Susan, Marcus noted that his help was not needed. She stood, Amazon like, straddling the inert body, her face full of fury and satisfaction.

"Are you okay?" he asked, needlessly.

She shook back her hair and tossed him a scathing look.

"I think we had best vacate this area, don't you? Naomi isn't here and I get no sense of her at all." Marcus looked dejected as he turned away, taking one last look around him. His eyes suddenly lit on a scrap of light revealed by the melee that had just taken place. Bending down with difficulty, he scooped up the doll, holding it gently in both hands.

"You think...?"

"A doll would not be abandoned, Susan. These children have little to call their own, this would have been treasured." His eyes searched the area again, and his heart ached for what might have become of the child.

"Let's go back up, see what we can find in Garibaldi's files. At least we know she was here, up to a few days ago at least. We can resume the search later."

Marcus nodded. Susan's thinking was sound but he had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he should continue, now. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just instinct, and he always trusted his instincts.

"You go on, I'll catch up with you. There are a few places I want to check out first. Clue Stephen in on our progress, take him the doll too, there might be some information he can gather from it." He handed her the toy and began to move away from her, then stopped suddenly as the room began to spin. Staggering, he put out a hand, looking for support and found Susan's arm around him, holding him up.

"I'm alright, really." The pallor of his cheeks belied his brave words. Susan's expletive rang loud in his already ringing ears as her hand came away red with his blood. As her arm had reached around him, under his cloak, she had knocked the handle of a thin bladed knife, where it still protruded from his lower back. The blow expanded the wound, sending a sudden spurt of blood over her hand. As though that were not enough his earlier injury had reopened during the fight. Blood seeped in a steady trickle from both entry and exit wound and was even now soaking through his tunic and dripping to the floor. 

***

"Dammit, dammit." Susan cursed as Marcus staggered again. His weight now too much for her as consciousness left him. He crumpled, face down, she going down with him.

On Marcus' insistence, she had left her link behind; it lay safely on her coffee table where it was of no use to anyone. Her dilemma grew. She had to get him help, sooner rather than later and she did not want to leave him. The pressure of her hands was all that held back the wash of blood threatening to drain his life energy. A few corridors back she had seen an old com box, one fitted when the station was being built, its purpose unknown. The station was full of such aberrations, hopefully this one worked; it was Marcus' only hope. 

She made swift progress, running flat out until she reached the small box. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably, and not from the exertion. Breathing a huge sigh of relief at the sight of the link she pulled open the cover and found nothing inside. The box was empty of wires, control panel, anything that might have given her a fighting chance of making contact with Franklin and his medical team. Panic settled in her stomach as her mind went blank. And then she was running again, back along the winding path they had walked along bare minutes before, until she crashed into the shantytown and grabbed the first adult she could find. 

When she could finally get through to the man she had accosted, he roused two others and they followed warily as she sped back to where Marcus might even now be dying. "For Gods sake hurry," she yelled back at her reluctant rescue team.

Running full pelt into the scattered boxes, Susan came to a sudden halt. The two heavies who had lain unconscious had vanished and Marcus' body had gone, only a bloody pool bore witness to his presence. She knew, beyond doubt, that he had not been capable of independent movement. Kneeling down beside the sticky red pool she closed her eyes and sent out her meagre telepathic senses. She found nothing. Around her, the three men who had tagged along so reluctantly, shared meaningful glances then turned away.

"No! You have to help me find him." Her voice impassioned.

"There'll be no finding him now. Taken, he is."

"You can't just desert him like this. I know he helps you, I saw how you reacted to him today. He is your friend; you can't just abandon him!"

The oldest of the men stepped forward and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. "You don't understand our life down here. He does, and he would know there is no point in looking." With a sad look he turned away, gathering the others with him, leaving Susan crouched on the floor her dismay quickly turning to anger.

"Marcus, I swear on everything I hold sacred that if I find you alive, I will kill you myself!" The brightness of her eyes might have led some to suppose that tears were not far off, a slur she would have refuted to the death. Slowly she got up, and turned toward the nearest corridor that would take her back to the transports. She had to get to Stephen, and between them they would find the Ranger.

*** 

Inky blackness held him safe, its embrace comforting and seductive. Every muscle relaxed within him as he felt his resistance fading, giving up his body to the warmth that seeped through him.

Voices filtered into his consciousness, soft and friendly and he felt the gentle touch of a hand on his cheek. As he drifted the child's face appeared to him once again, no tears this time but her arms were held out to him, calling him. He tried to reach her, tried to lift his hand to hold hers but his limbs now felt like lead. Unable to move, to speak even, his mind revolted against the tyranny of his body's weakness.

"I think he's coming around. Stand back dear."

He heard the words but they made no sense, he was filled with the need to find Naomi. His whole being strove for lucidity; to free itself from death's compelling grip.

"Naomi?" his voice whispered into the darkness. His effort was rewarded by the touch of a small hand slipping under his, where it lay against rough blankets. Strange how he could distinguish that amidst the nothingness that surrounded him, he mused.

"Young man, can you hear me?" The elderly voice sounded musically in his ear. Soft and compelling, he found himself responding to it, trying to raise his lids to view the world again. It was too much; he had never felt so weak. He hoped he were back in Stephen's care and would wake to his friend's irascible diatribe and not in the middle of a living nightmare. Darkness took him again and oblivion swept him away on swift currents.

When next he awoke, energy, in some small measure, had returned. At least opening his eyes was no longer a test of his strength. A soothing coolness breathed over his still warm skin, and he realised that his tunic and cloak were missing leaving his chest and arms open to the air. Lids fluttered against the light as he turned his head to the side, trying to recognise his surroundings. The room was small, utilitarian. In one corner a set of shelves held medical paraphernalia. Bottles and jars juggled for space with rolls of bandages and some of the more gruesome metallic objects. Not Med Lab then...

"You're awake! How wonderful." Again the dulcet tones, unfamiliar yet soothing. The woman who had moved to his side was small, distinguished, her grey hair coiled about her elegant head. She reminded him of his grandmother, that throwback to yesteryear, with her old fashioned clothes and her strictures on morality. But she had been the kindest person in his young life, taken from him when he was only eight years old. Even now he could remember her drilling into him a sense of responsibility and good manners. Gently done, but her will was of iron. This woman held that same steel within velvet look - and he was comforted. 

"Hello," his voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, you probably are full of questions - Who am I? Where are you? And I will answer them all as soon as you have had something to eat and drink. You lost a lot of blood before my boys found you. I have done what I can and you seem a strong lad. I think you will do. Come, let me help you up."

She was surprisingly strong for a woman of her age, and Marcus could do little to help her. By the time she had raised the head of the bed, arranged his pillows to offer more support he was exhausted. She held a glass of water to his lips and helped him to sip slowly, when he had had his fill she left him, only to return with soup. Again, she helped him to sup the wonderful mixture. He felt its warmth slide down his throat, the taste exquisite on his tongue.

"Thank you," he said, with a heartfelt sigh. For the first time in an age he felt it would be okay to fall asleep and let someone else watch over him. But as his eyes began to droop, Naomi flashed into his thoughts and he struggled to lift himself.

A strong hand held him down, pressing him firmly back against the pillows. "Don't worry, she is safe, see?" Standing near the door, where his benefactress indicated, stood the little girl who had haunted his dreams and sent him on this most dangerous of missions. "They all end up here," she mused. "The lost, the hurt. Sooner or later they come to me, and I do what I can to help them. Now rest, all will be answered after you have slept." 

Seeing that he still resisted, she called the little girl over. "Naomi this is..." she turned her gaze inquiringly to Marcus.

"Marcus. Pleased to meet you, Naomi."

The child smiled dazzlingly up at him, and patted his hand. Turning her impish face to the older woman she quipped, "See Maggie, I told you he had pretty eyes!"

*** 

Susan ran full pelt toward the nearest transport, scattering those foolish enough to get in her way. Flinging herself through the doors she ordered it to the nearest exit to Med Lab. The ride up was not long but in that short time she calmed her breathing, pulled her hands through her long, unfettered hair and did her best to present a more normal appearance. The aggressive stride and thunderous looks were not unusual aspects for Commander Ivanova to display, and they were in full force as she stormed her way into Stephen Franklin's domain. Anger kept any other emotions at bay, and it was with cold, deliberate words that she explained what had happened in Down Below. 

"And when we reached the area he was gone!" Her hand slapped down hard on Stephen's desk. "They wouldn't help, and I had no idea where to start a search." 

Her head tipped back as she tried to ease the tension from her neck. "I'll tell you this much, Stephen, he didn't get out of there under his own steam ... that knife was in as deep as it would go. It could have hit anything... What the hell would anyone want with a dying man?" Her terrified exasperation was contagious and Franklin's face reflected his own concerns.

"We have to call in Garibaldi on this. It's gone too far for the two of us to deal with alone. Damn him," he swore softly, "he attracts trouble like a magnet."

"Just wait until we catch up with him," she growled softly, "he doesn't know what trouble is yet."

*** 

Garibaldi's gaze moved back and forth between them, disbelief etched into his already craggy features. "Boy Scouts, that's what the pair of you are, and Marcus no better. What the hell were you doing? No, don't even try to answer that one. Did you really think I knew nothing about the telepaths? Just what do you take me for? I am head of security... or did that little item slip your memory." He held up a silencing hand. "No, I didn't discuss it with anyone else, but this is my station, my business and nothing goes on here that I don't know about."

"I hate to disillusion you," Susan moved to sit on the edge of his desk, weariness beginning to take its toll. "Were you aware that children were going missing Down Below?"

"Just one child, two years ago, no a little less than that. Never found a trace of the kid, he just vanished into thin air."

She shook her head. "No, it's nearly thirty now. They instituted their own searches Down Below after you didn't get back to them on the first little boy. Marcus..."She took a deep breath, "Marcus discovered that they have been vanishing fairly regularly, he thinks someone called Shaker might be involved, we almost ran into him."

"Shaker! How did that bastard get back on board?" Garibaldi turned and brought up Shaker's record to review. "Is this him?"

Susan nodded. On the screen, a small wiry man looked back at them. Thin of face, eyes set slightly too close together and of a dark grey colour, gave him a sinister look. He looked like the villain he was. Then Garibaldi flashed other faces up, known associates and two of them matched the hired help who had attacked Marcus and Susan.

"You are sure these are the guys who jumped you? And Freck was the one who shivved Marcus?" She nodded agreement to both.

"Right, well that gives me all the excuse I need to go on an animal hunt. This time Shaker is off the station for good. And while we track down this bit of effluence, we can turn the place upside down for Marcus. Doc, you had best come with us, if Cole is still alive he's gonna need you." 

"When's Sheridan due back?" Franklin's concern was fully justified. The last thing they needed was the Captain on their back about this.

"Not for at least three days. The conference isn't due to finish until Friday." Being second in command had some benefits she thought. While the boss is away...

Ten minutes later they were armed and ready. Garibaldi had hand picked his teams to help out in the search, Franklin and Ivanova accompanying him.

As she checked her weapon, Susan wondered if it were all too little too late.

... 


	5. Default Chapter Title

Title : ...and a Happy New Year

Author: Jo Taylor

Part 1 of 7

Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of

Rating: General 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!

Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g

Feedback very welcome

...and a Happy New Year

Susan's kiss was not the only thing to send Marcus' temperature soaring and weaken his limbs. Stephen's medication and the initial euphoria of her touch soon waned, and the infection that had entered his system took hold, leaving him weak and delirious.

For two days lucid consciousness eluded him, though his dreams were full of memories and thoughts that taunted his mind. He was unaware of his mutterings, the tossing and turning of his fevered body as visions haunted his dreams, their content and meaning just out of his grasp.

Through them all one image returned time and again, the one thing that held any clarity for him in his torment, the face of a child. Frightened brown eyes fixed on his, tears glistening on the long lashes, the soft mouth quivered under a pert nose. The child spoke, but he could not hear the words, only the sensation of fear, of desperate need reached him, and then his mind wandered once more down pathways that led nowhere. 

Shivering, he opened his eyes to the bright glare of Med Lab. The light was suddenly obscured as Stephen Franklin leaned over his bed, the dark brown eyes concerned even as a smile lit his friend's face.

"Hey, Marcus, welcome back." 

The familiar tones of Franklin's voice soothed some of the torment that had surfaced with him, easing the slight disorientation that clung persistently to his hazy thoughts. He felt terrible; the drugs washing through his system made him feel lousy as antibiotics swarmed the last of the infection that had run rampant through his wiry body. He licked gently at dry lips and found a strong arm lifting him as a straw was presented to his parched mouth. Sweet, cold water washed against his coated tongue and he sighed happily.

"That's enough for now. No, no more." 

He was laid gently back, much against his will, but as he was unable to raise himself he gave in with what good grace he could muster.

Marcus' eyes slid shut as another chilly wave washed through him. He heard orders being issued, felt the press of a needle in his arm and the added warmth of a blanket being draped over his aching body. Within moments darkness claimed him as a natural sleep took his body in its healing embrace. Even though his fever had broken and the delirium had left his mind, still his dreams turned back to the little girl who had been the constant thread of his nightmares. He saw her now in greater detail, the long blonde curls framed a chubby, angelic face; her clothes were torn and dirty but had obviously once been of good quality. And the abject misery that effused her features cut at him, called to him for succour. All around her was darkness, deep, impenetrable with no hint of time or place. He did not know who she was, where he might have encountered her or why she figured so large in his thoughts, he only knew that she needed his help. That he must find her, wherever she was. His mind knew no doubt that the child was in danger, and that it was his task to protect and rescue her.

When next he opened his eyes, the dim lighting and hushed sounds indicated the night watch had begun. Flexing one hand and then another he was relieved to feel some strength returning to his weakened limbs. He tensed and relaxed each set of muscles, testing his resilience and pinpointing areas that were still distressed. The whole of his left side ached where the gun's discharge had seared through his flesh damaging muscles and tissues, leaving him with yet another scar he mused. His body was becoming a road map to the calling he had chosen, a testament to the Ranger way of life. Sighing softly he pushed himself upright, catching his breath as pain shot through his shoulder. Sensitive fingers sought the area and met with a med patch, matching the one that adorned his torso - the blast had gone right through him then, shooting up at an awkward angle, missing vital organs by millimetres. Sliding his legs over the edge of the bed he sat quietly for a moment, letting his senses settle from the mad whirling that turned the room about him. Gradually, as he breathed deeply, concentrating on the flow of air in and out of his lungs, the world stopped spinning and he eased himself down to the floor. His body protested; knees that normally had the action of well oiled springs now threatened to cave beneath him. He grabbed quickly at the bed, his eyes scanning the room for any stray doctor or nurse that might try and stop his rash actions. Normally he would not flout Franklin's edicts, nor would he be so careless as to disregard his body's needs, but there was something driving at his senses, something that told him there was a mission for him to complete, a job he had left undone. It thundered through him, echoing in his tired mind until it blotted out all else.

He must have made a strange sight as his tall unkempt figure in its incongruous medical blues gingerly made its way down thankfully empty corridors. Making the safety of the transport, Marcus collapsed gratefully against the wall and directed the conveyance to his floor. Right now what he needed most was his own bed, some time to meditate and to sort out who or what was plaguing his thoughts. His head rested against the faintly vibrating wall and he let his eyes close briefly. The small lurch under his feet alerted him that a floor had been reached and he opened his eyes reluctantly, to find Susan Ivanova gazing at him in amazement, one foot stepping over the threshold.

Inwardly he groaned; he loved the woman dearly but already he could see storm clouds gathering on her face.

"What the hell are you doing, Marcus?" Susan snapped. Marching right up to him, she stood bare inches away from his ailing form. 

He tried his best to stand a little straighter and to lift his head from the comfort of the wall's support but he stood defeated.

"Oh bugger!" he sighed softly, the remains of his masculine pride lying in tatters around him. "Lend a hand, Susan, there's a terrible draught cutting right through these." His hand plucked at the thin blue material and he thought he saw the faintest gleam of amusement quickly suppressed in her lovely eyes.

"Does Stephen know you are out of the Med Lab?" Right on cue her link bleeped, and a message from C&C reached her. 'Doctor Franklin had lost a patient, would everyone be on the lookout for...'

"I have him. Tell Med Lab I am bringing him..."

"Susan, no, please." The urgency in his tone stayed her for a moment. "There something I have to do. I can't go back right now." 

Her eyes bore into him, assessing his condition and the apparent urgency of his mission and she came to a swift conclusion.

"C&C, this is Ivanova, tell Doctor Franklin I will escort Mr Cole to his own quarters. I'll be in touch with him direct should his services be required."

"Your reasons had better be good, Cole." She slipped a strong arm around his waist and pulled him close to her, taking his weight with ease. "Let's go then."

They moved slowly, each step Marcus took sent a shiver of pain lancing through his shoulder where it then radiated along every nerve and sent a resonant pounding through his temples. But for now he did not care. Ivanova had her arm around him and, from this intimate contact, he could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo, the soft fragrance of her natural perfume. Just a shame he was in no fit state to really appreciate his position. 

He cued his door and they stepped in to relative darkness. The area was sparsely furnished, almost spartan in its clean lines and lack of accessories. A bed, a chair plus the usual amenities seemed lost in the small room. On one side a tiny galley hosted a single set of cutlery and china, the cupboards held little in the way of comestibles. Susan draped the weary Ranger onto the bed then went looking for the makings of a hot drink or some kind of food. Marcus watched in affectionate amusement as she turned domestic.

"My god, Marcus, don't you have anything to eat in the place?" She pulled open the small refrigeration unit and hastily shut it again, nose wrinkling against the sudden smell. "Something has died in there. Don't your ever clean up?"

"Gorgonzola," he said quietly, trying not to laugh, it hurt too much to indulge in the sudden rush of humour that shot through him.

"Well, it stinks. " She rattled through his only cupboard, finally finding a pack of tea sachets that Delenn had given him long ago. "What about these? Are they safe to drink?"

"The blue ones, not the red... on the other hand, I could probably do with waking up a bit."

He tried to struggle upright but Susan's hand was firm on his chest. "You will have blue and like it. Stephen will have my guts if you end up back in his care worse than when you left." She quickly made the tea, letting it brew for a minute; all the while she had one eye on Marcus' pale face. When it was ready she helped him upright and took the only seat available to her, pulling it up close to his position on the edge of his bed until their knees almost touched. At any other time Marcus would have revelled in her company but the nagging thought that he had something to do, something that urgently needed his attention, kept him distracted. As though aware of his inner turmoil, Susan touched his blue covered thigh, attracting his attention.

"Talk to me, Marcus. What drove you out of Med Lab?"

"Apart from the bloody awful food you mean?" he quipped, almost like his old self. Her eyes brought him down again, and almost as though the image had been waiting for his weakness to allow its entry, the child's image floated into his mind.

"Have you ever had a dream that nags at you? A premonition maybe, something that you just know is the truth?" His deep green eyes caught the sudden shift in hers, almost as though she was uncomfortable with the subject.

"Hasn't everyone," she returned quickly.

"I guess," he said slowly. "Whilst I was out of it, I dreamt, or at least I think I dreamt..." his voice trailed off as doubts now assailed him.

"Tell me." Her voice, though soft, was a definite command.

"I kept seeing this little girl. A sweet little thing all gold curls and big eyes. Nice clothes too, though they were a bit battered in places. She was maybe five or six, I'm not good at women's ages," his grin tried to take the embarrassment from his tone. "Anyway, she seemed lost or in distress. I kept seeing her face, and I knew that she needed my help. That she needs my help," he stressed the present tense, suddenly wanting to make Susan understand his quest.

Susan's face gave nothing away and yet he was aware of her sudden stillness, the tension that ran through her. 

"What is it? Is there a child missing on the station? Come on, Susan, spill it!" 

She stood abruptly and took a quick turn around his small room. He watched through his fatigue as she paced back and forth, almost hearing the wheels turning behind her shuttered eyes. Her glance, when she finally desisted from her perambulations, was cool, her tone matching the sudden aloofness that surrounded her. Gone was the caring friend of a moment ago, she was all Commander now, calling on her Russian poise.

"I'll check it out. For now, I suggest you get some rest."

"Susan!" He struggled to his feet in time to see her back disappearing from view. Cursing under his breath he sank back down. He hated it when she got in this sort of mood. On a good day he could read her as easily as bold type on an open page, but occasionally, as now, she confused him utterly. That there was something going on that he knew nothing about he was sure. How it involved the lost child eluded him.

*** 

Ivanova entered Med Lab some few hours later. Franklin was back on duty and still seething at Marcus' midnight flit from his care and his glance was far from friendly as she stepped over the threshold.

"Well?" Stephen turned and dismissed the junior doctor at his side and escorted Susan into his office. "How's my patient doing?" he asked, tapping his fingers against the desk.

"He's tough, he'll be okay. Stephen, remember about a year ago the Siskin girl who vanished?"

He sat up quickly, his eyes scanning the immediate vicinity for anyone who might have heard Susan's soft utterance.

"What about her? Has she been found?"

Susan moved a little closer, changing position until she could watch the surrounding area through the clear partition. "Marcus claims to have seen her whilst he was in here. Apparently she was haunting his dreams. Could she still be alive or is it just fever driven delusions?" 

"Are you sure it was her?" Their low voiced conference had started to garner unwanted attention and he let a smile play across his face to deflect their curiosity.

"He gave me a pretty good description of her. How could he know, Stephen? He wasn't even on the station when that whole scenario went down." She let her own smile show for those still watching.

"I think it's time for a house call, don't you?"

***

... 


	6. Default Chapter Title

Title : ...and a Happy New Year

Author: Jo Taylor

Part 6 of 7

Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of

Rating: General 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!

Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g

Feedback most welcome

… and a Happy New Year

Only the faint glow of a single candle lit Susan Ivanova's rooms. She should have been meeting Stephen and some friends in the bar an hour ago, instead she sat in the gloom of her quarters downing one straight vodka after another. Five now, or was it six? And still the alcohol was having no measurable effects. Marcus' face swam before her, pale features highlighting the brilliant eyes, dimming as his life drained out through her fingers. She should not have left him. The damn Pak'mara probably had him for dinner. She had contemplated having the whole delegation rounded up and stomach pumped. But even if that had been Marcus' fate it would not bring him back. She tipped back another shot and let her eyes rest on the flame. Tonight was the time for resolutions, to make those promises that you never kept. Usually she decided to watch her weight, or cut down on the drink, maybe be nicer to her subordinates. Whatever she chose it lasted only a week or two at the most, this time she decided that, should Marcus be found she would never put herself in the position of missing him again. The pull he exerted on her she would ignore, keeping him at arm's length. Her fingers moved to the wolf's head that hung around her neck, touching it gently. "Damn you, Marcus," she whispered.

*** 

Shaker was looking the worse for wear by the time Marcus and Maggie reached him. Blood trickled from his mouth and one eye was swollen, the bruise already coming out.

"What happened?" Maggie's voice was crisp as she turned to John.

"He made a run for it. Didn't get far though." Knuckles crunched as his fist tightened.

"Nicely done!" Marcus stepped in. He knew Shaker from old, there was no way to negotiate the information from him, brute force was all he understood.

Shaker's eyes had widened seeing Marcus entering the room, apparently none the worse for the encounter with his men. "Surprised to see me? Now why would that be, hum?"

Pressing back in his chair, Shaker tried to avoid Marcus eyes. "I don't know anything," he said defiantly. "You can beat me till I drop but there is nothing I can tell you."

"Maggie, I think you can leave him in my care for a while," Marcus said, not taking his eyes from Shaker. "I am about to take him up on his kind offer."

"John, you stay here with Marcus, Mark come with me." He was surprised at her agreeing so quickly, but then he remembered the look on her face when he had related Naomi's story, the hint of steel that he had noticed on their first meeting. She knew what had to be done, if this trade in children was to be stopped.

The door closed behind her and Marcus moved closer to his victim. "John, would you be kind enough to hold Mr Shaker for me? I want to ask him a few questions."

***

"Well?" Maggie was clearing up the dishes as Marcus came into her galley. It was well into the small hours by now, and he had lost all sense of time.

"Naomi?"

"Still asleep. Here, sit down before you fall down."

True, he was more tired that he had thought it possible to be. Every muscle ached and he could feel the flare of infection hot around his back.

"Over did it a little," he sighed as he sank into the chair she indicated.

"Did you find out what has been happening? Where the children are?" Maggie returned with a cup of water and two tiny blue pills. "Take these, they will help bring your temperature down. I should check those dressings again as well."

"Later, Maggie. I'm not sure I can move right now."

She looked at him in concern, noting the deepening lines across his brow. "You need to rest..."

He caught her arm. "No, let me tell you what I found out. Then we must get word to Garibaldi and the others." He laughed softly. "It's my New Year's resolution, to get those children back to their parents. All of them," he added with savage conviction.

"It started with a couple on Mars who were turned down for adoption because of their age and the fact that the man was diagnosed terminally ill. After all, what life could a child be offered in such circumstances? Anyway, the man had used Shaker to transport various illegal artefacts for his company. Somehow the difficulty he was having came up and Shaker offered his services, for a hefty price as you can imagine.

"That was the first of many, and not just from Babylon five, though this area of Down Below seemed an ideal hunting ground. Maggie, there are hundreds of children out there, hundreds who have passed through Shaker's hands." His fingers tightened on the cup he still held, knuckles gleaming white against the dark blue china.

"They had the children kidnapped early evening or late morning, papers were ready for them within the hour and the kids smuggled out as patients on transfer or return to their home planet. All this at the heaviest traffic time, security would be stretched with the transports coming and going. Not once have they been stopped, not once did anyone query the orders. Stephen and Garibaldi will hit the roof when I tell them what has been happening. Not all the children were taken out that way though, some were drugged and crated for shipment like so much cargo."

"My God, Marcus. Those poor infants." Maggie held back her tears with a visible effort. "What happened to them?"

Marcus tight smile held no humour. "Shaker very kindly gave me the information crystal that holds all his records. It seems he doesn't like to leave it anywhere and so carries it with him, for safety. His hiding place was a little uncomfortable but I'm sure he feels better for passing it on." 

Maggie's lips twitched appreciatively at his humour.

"Naomi's people were only supposed to be passing through the station. They were going to hand her over to new adoptive parents, further out toward the rim. A couple who didn't mind her latent telepathic powers and who could keep her hidden from PsiCorps. When they got here it was the middle of the Christmas celebrations. They were down on the Zocalo when the raid was taking place, in the confusion that occurred she got separated from them and somehow ended up Down Below. I can only think that she saw me, remembered me. And that while I was delirious, my barriers right down she managed to reach my mind. I have had no sense of her since then."

"I'll get you something to eat, then I will change your dressings. Naomi will be up soon, I think you should take her as soon as possible. Reunite her with her parents, Marcus."

"I intend to." He sank back into the chairs comforting embrace and let the tiredness seep through him.

***

Stephen's first indication that something odd was happening in his surgery was the sudden turning of heads toward the door. He turned to follow the amazed looks his staff was sending that way. In the door stood Marcus, next to him a small blonde girl some six years old. One hand was tightly gripping Marcus' the other held a ragged doll of indeterminate age.

"Marcus?" Stephen headed forward and watched the child shrink closer to the Ranger. He slowed his impetuous stride and smiled gently at the little girl. "Hello, Naomi. It's nice to see you again."

Deep brown eyes looked at him for a moment then up at Marcus.

"Do you remember Stephen, Naomi? He met you here last year, when you arrived with your mother and father."

She nodded, still unsure but accepting Marcus' word implicitly. 

"I need to talk to Stephen for a moment, would you sit over there for me? I'll be right here," he added, seeing the frightened look return to her eyes.

Quickly he filled Franklin in on all that had occurred. Dipping into his pocket he brought out the crystal. "I'll have to leave this with you. I promised Maggie I would personally take Naomi to her parents. Delenn isn't looking for me is she?"

No, she is still off station with the Captain but they are both due back later today. What do we tell them?"

"I'll leave that to your creative genius. Do you have a location for the Siskins? I'll be off as soon as I have changed."

"You might want to look in on Ivanova. She was pretty upset over your disappearance. We had you figured for dead, especially as we could find no trace of you on the station."

"Susan... upset?" His mind turned over the possibilities, rejecting them one by one. Susan might have been miffed that he had vanished but she had never indicated she cared a jot for him. The flutter of excitement that had churned within him died as he decided Franklin exaggerated her concerns.

"I'll catch up with you all in a few days, when I have dropped Naomi off and had a chat with one or two of Shaker's associates. Don't worry, Stephen," he said, seeing the frown descending on the doctor's face, "I'll take it easy. Maggie would kill me if I did any more damage to her stitches."

"You'd better let me take a look while you are here. Don't pull that face, get up there."

His examination was thorough and the accompanying grunts and tuts left Marcus wondering just what was wrong. He felt fine, tired and a little achy, but nothing worse.

"Well, I don't know how, but the wound on your shoulder is just about healed, the one on your back is ready for the stitches to come out. I'd like to meet the woman who did that. I haven't seen a stitched wound since medical training. It's a good job, very good."

"I'm sure Maggie would love to meet you. When I get back we'll go and find her. I'll want to bring her up to date on Naomi." He slid off the bed and held out a hand to the child still sitting patiently waiting. She ran to him, grabbed his hand and said quickly, "Can we find mummy now?"

"We are on our way. Stephen, would you let Garibaldi know that Shaker is down in Grey 16, I left him tied to a rather heavy piece of pipe work, behind some packing cases. Oh, you might want to send one of the doctors along as well."

Stephen's brow raised enquiringly.

" We had a little chat, about this and that." Marcus explained, succinctly.

"Right..."

... 


	7. Default Chapter Title

Title : ...and a Happy New Year

Author: Jo Taylor

Part 7 of 7

Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of

Rating: General 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!

Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g

Love to hear what you think of this one G

… and a Happy New Year conclusion

Four days later, Marcus returned to the station to be met by a solemn welcoming committee. Dr Franklin waited with Ivanova and Garibaldi. Michael and Stephen tackled him about his mission as they walked toward the meeting with Captain Sheridan and Delenn. Susan kept a pace behind them, her eyes burning into his back.

They left him at the door, having already given their versions of events he was on his own. When he left two hours later, he felt as though he had been put through a wringer. Captain Sheridan's anger had been understandable, but Delenn's gentle disapproval hurt him more. They understood what and why, but were more disturbed at the secret way in which their staff had behaved. 

He headed back to his quarters, subdued, still stiff from his injuries. With his eyes fixed on the floor, contemplating the disciplinary action Delenn might seek to impose, he almost walked into Commander Ivanova.

"Cole." He caught the hint of menace in her voice, looked up quickly and saw the anger in her eyes.

"Hello, Susan," he said with his usual bounce. "I'm sorry about that little mess up. You got back alright then. Did Stephen tell you about Naomi? Of course he did..."

"You're babbling, Cole. Shut up."

"Sorry. Won't you come in?"

"No." She suddenly remembered her resolution. She would not get pulled into his sphere of influence again. "Did you get a clean bill of health?"

"Yes," he said slowly, wondering where her question was leading.

"Next time you do that to me Cole, I am going to tear you limb from limb. Do you understand me?" 

"No, I don't think I do." His heart was pounding loudly in his ears. His hopes rose as her anger took on another meaning for him.

She turned from him, hurrying down the passage his confused gaze tracking the enticing sway of her hips. And then he was moving, following her swiftly retreating form; calling her name. He slipped through the closing transport doors with millimetres to spare.

"I thought you were going back to your quarters, Cole." She kept her eyes away from his.

"Thought I would go and fill Maggie in on Naomi. Take her the picture she drew for her, that kind of thing. Care to join me?"

Susan was quiet for so long he thought she was deliberately ignoring him, but then she replied. "Okay. I'd like to meet the woman who looked after Naomi. We owe her a debt. Which floor?"

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Susan exited first and Marcus indicated which way to turn. They kept pace with one another, Marcus flicking the occasional glance at Susan, waiting for some word or gesture to indicate she knew he was there. Turning down a bleak corridor he finally spoke. "Her rooms are just around the corner. Don't be surprised if her boys are there. Great guys, but just a little intimidating." 

Rounding the corner they faced a blank wall. No door; no access of any kind was visible. Marcus stopped dead in his tracks, turned back a few steps to check his position and came back to face the dirty grey walls. "It was here, right here."

"Maybe you were turned around a little. You weren't a hundred percent after all."

"No. I have a photographic memory when it comes to finding my way around. Once I have done a route, it's there for life. This is where Maggie's quarters should be!"

His hands ran over the dark walls, feeling for seams or a hidden door, anything that would vindicate his beliefs. Aware of Susan's contemplative gaze resting on him, he turned to face her.

"I am not going mad, nor did I imagine this. Look..." He pulled out the rolled piece of paper tucked in his belt. Unfurling it, he presented her with the drawing Naomi had sketched for Maggie. It portrayed Marcus in typical Ranger pose, pike extended by his side. At least that was the impression Susan received from the stick like drawing.

"It's very nice, but are you sure this wasn't meant for you?"

He shook his head, frustrated. "Damn it, no!"

"Look, it's been a hard shift for me, I just want to go back to my quarters, take a shower and hit the sack. We can discuss this tomorrow, okay?"

"No, it's not okay. Susan..." 

But she was already moving away from him, eyes shuttered, her posture screaming out her wish for solitude. He dogged her heels all the way to her door, trying to explain that he had not blown a fuse, or overdosed on some ancient Minbari hallucinogen. Her door swished open and he followed her in, uninvited.

"What the hell!" She advanced on him, as he stood in the middle of her room still disclaiming.

"I'll prove it to you," he stated. With hurried fingers he began stripping off his cloak, quickly followed by his tunic, not noticing the panic that gleamed briefly in her eyes. Turning his back to her he exposed the still healing scar held together by Maggie's stitches. "Is this a figment of my imagination? Well, is it?"

"Marcus..."

He turned, panicked at the concern in her voice. His hand moved to where the scar should be and found nothing. For a moment his brain refused to accept what his fingers told him. Was he going mad after all? Was this a delusion? If he were dreaming this... He took two strides to Susan's side and pulled her close to him, if this were his dream then... His lips caught hers in a savage, passionate kiss. He poured all of his feelings into the contact, pulling her closer and closer.

The resultant slap almost took his head from his shoulders and set up a ringing in his ears that refused to desist.

"I think he's coming round. Get Doctor Franklin, hurry."

Bloody Hell, am I back in Med Lab again, he thought, the ringing still persistent in his ears. He opened his eyes slowly and took in the now familiar sights and sounds of Stephen's domain. Just how hard had she hit him?

"Well, about time too. You had us worried this time, Marcus. Here, let me help you up."

"Just how hard did Susan hit me?" Marcus was surprised to find his voice rose barely above a whisper.

"Susan? What are you talking about? You were shot just over a week ago, don't you remember? You got in the way of a trigger happy Santa. The raid on the jewellers?...Look, just take it easy for a while, some memory loss isn't unheard of for someone who has been unconscious as long as you have been."

"Unconscious?" Marcus' mind whirled with disbelief. Reluctantly he moved his hand to his back, feeling for the stitches that should be there - only smooth skin met his searching fingers.

"Valen," he hissed through clenched teeth, he really was delusional.

A small commotion attracted their attention as Garibaldi strode in with a young blonde child in his arms, the youngster protesting loudly at being carried.

"Naomi?" Marcus closed his eyes, then opened them again. Surely he was going mad.

Garibaldi put the child down and she ran straight for Marcus, hiding behind his bed. "She doesn't seem any the worse for her ordeal, as you can see," Michael began, "her parents are on their way, should be with you any minute."

Stephen tried to talk to the child who by now was crouched in the corner where Marcus could just make out her blonde curls. "Naomi," he called softly.

"The kid's name is Verity, not Naomi. Where did you get that name from?" Stephen began to edge around the bed.

"In my dreams," Marcus felt the world was turning upside down around him.

Two smartly dressed young people came in then, and Verity ran to them, hugging the woman tightly. Marcus watched the scene with a detachment that surprised him.

"She vanished the same day you were shot. The whole station has been looking for her." Stephen leaned against Marcus' bed, arms folded. "I do like a happy ending."

Two days later Franklin finally released Marcus from Med Lab. Slowly he made his way toward Down Below. He needed to see and be seen again. Too long out of the loop and his influence and position would have to be re-established. A time consuming and physically challenging procedure that he just wasn't fit enough for right now.

As he walked down the last corridor, mind engaged on trying to sort out fact from fiction, he caught the faintest whiff of lavender. Turning, he saw the retreating back of a small elderly woman, grey hair elegantly coiled around her head. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and on opening them again was glad to see the corridor empty. He entered the bar and quickly took a seat calling for service.

"Bartender, what is the most potent beverage you serve?"

"Arcturian slinger," came the morose reply.

"Give me a double."

The end

Illusion, delusion or prophecy? 

I have some thought to continuing this story - if I get a bright idea that is!


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